


Stare into the Abyss

by floofboy



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Codependency, M/M, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Senyuu Seasons 2-3 Gap, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, but hey at least they still love each other?, no worse than in the show itself though, tl;dr albatross is fucked up in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: Sion wants to inflict pain, wants to slip a knife into Alba’s thigh and a hand around his throat. He wants to thrust a foot into the other hero’s stomach and send him flying into a wall, wants to grind his foot on Alba’s and watch him wince.(He wants Alba to give in to the abuse, to break, to look at him like he has all the answers.He wants him to becomehis.)





	Stare into the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> I mention this plenty in the tags, but just in case you haven't noticed- this albatross is kinda fucked up, mainly in the possessive sense. If that isn't your thing, you might wanna bow out.
> 
> The fic goes up to the season 2-3 gap (i.e. home tutoring Ros), but has a couple mentions of Season 3 concepts I guess? Spoilers up to and including Season 3.

Sion has liked Alba just fine from almost the very start. 

When he first meets Alba - disoriented and confused after apparently centuries of stasis - he’s pleasantly surprised. At first glance he had thought him a pathetic impostor caring more for glory than justice, but Alba soon proves him wrong. 

(Of course, Alba vowing to save the old bartender and his bar from the tornado was rather meaningless in the end, seeing that it gets dealt with long before it reaches Alba, but well-

It was the thought that counted, he supposes.)

So Sion sneaks his way after Alba to the palace, fiddles with guard schedules and soldier assignments to ensure that no one quite knows who’s chosen Hero #45, then slips into that gap he creates. 

Sion hadn’t really known what he wanted. He didn’t know why he was awake, why Rchimedes was not, why the king claimed he found over seventy of Hero Creasion’s descendants when Sion most definitely did not have any children. 

But he had expected things to be fun around Alba, the young hero who had more of a sense of justice than any actual sense, and it wasn’t as though he had anything better to do.

(It had been so long since he was interested in “fun”.)

He wasn’t let down, in that respect. 

* * *

Hero - Hero _-san_ \- is meant as both a term of disrespect and a way to distance himself from the young hero. 

Alba was interesting, sure, and fun to mess with, but Sion wasn’t about to actually get close to him. 

(He wasn’t sure if he was even able to make connections anymore either way.)

The slight doesn’t go unnoticed - Alba scowls at first, at the sound of _-san_ from the soldier accompanying him when all others awarded him the respect of _-sama_. 

But while Alba is many things, prideful one of them, he’s not arrogant to the point of delusion. Especially when the wanna-be hero finds himself faltering against Nisepandas on a regular basis. 

(He’s pretty sure the average town drunk can manage to fend off a Nisepanda - it’s almost endearing how much of a small fry the other hero is at the moment.)

The first time Sion steps in to save Alba, he’s met with a barrage of complaints that make him almost regret stepping in. Honestly. He wasn’t Alba’s mother - he had no obligation to protect him from any and all harm. 

But at the end of the tirade, Alba steps back, looks sheepish, and mutters a thank you. 

(Of course, Sion immediately jabs him in the stomach - no tiny thank you would make up for the the tirade of complaints just earlier - but that’s only expected.) 

Once Sion saves Alba once, that’s all it takes really, for the other boy to stop looking displeased at the less respectful address. 

So it stops being much use as a way of disrespect, but Sion keeps at it regardless. “Alba” feels strange in his mouth, and he doesn’t stop to consider the implications of that. 

Until one day, they run into a shady merchant in the outskirts of a larger village. 

“Oh, Hero _-_ san _,_ ” he calls out to them, and then with a few swift steps Sion finds himself grinding his heel into the man’s foot. 

“What was that?” Sion says coolly, looking down at the man - now cowering - with a cool look of derision. 

He hears Alba babbling angrily at him in the background and the merchant stammering out apologies for the scam he hadn’t gotten a chance to try, but it takes a moment more for the white noise of anger muttering _my name for him, mine, not yours_ in his mind to clear. 

When it does, Sion realizes he has a problem.

* * *

Sion has spent a good fifty percent of his life utterly alone.

After his father kills Crea and takes over his body, after he awakens to magical power and makes his own Mana Maker, blue flame blazing by his head… he has no one by his side.

The village he grew up was ground zero for Rchimedes’ rise to power, its residents murdered cruelly and unjustly, just to create the negative energy Rchimedes wanted to create a new world. 

All while Sion was knocked unconscious by Rchimedes in front of the ancient temple, after being too weak, too human to kill him. When he drags himself back into the world of the living, his magic restoring his body from what would’ve been a fatal blow, the first thing he does is run back to the village to warn them.

But he was too late - of course he was. He may not have been close with most of the villagers, but seeing their merciless slaughter-

(It breaks something in him.)

Sion digs a grave for every villager that died that night. He’s always been good at doing that for pranks. Now he has a better reason.

He spends months alone, desperately digging through his father’s old notes in an attempt to recreate Rchimedes’ greatest glory. The Mana Maker. 

There’s no need for Sion, at least, to go out of his way to create sorrow and pain. He’s got enough of that on his own. He just needs the ability to harness it, because even if he can’t kill Rchimedes when he’s possessing Crea, he _knows_ there must be a way to seal him - if only he can gain enough power.

Sion manages to create the device, eventually, and heads out of the village on that same day. That’s when he discovers the world had turned upside down. Insane creatures roamed the wilds, “demons” attacked human villages on the order of the oh-so-great Demon Lord Rchimedes, and entire portions of the continent had disappeared. 

It’s a fit of pique that makes him introduce himself as “Creasion” to the first person he meets after leaving the village. He doesn’t want to use the name his father gave him, for one. For two, maybe if he takes Crea’s name as his own- 

It’ll be like they were travelling the world together, the way Crea always wanted to do.

He never intended to be a hero, but he accepts the title readily enough. If no one else could - would - carry out justice - then he would. How could he not, after seeing so many people’s faces light up at the sight of his blue flame? At the sight of hope?

But being Hero Creasion forces him to shove himself in the corner. Hold back, hold back, hold back, it’s your fault everyone is suffering, your fault for being too weak to kill _him,_ you can’t cause more pain when it’s all because of you. 

It’s not like he can make friends in a state like that.

(Then he seals Rchimedes, then he wakes up, then he finds himself free.

Then he’s running away from a tornado with another boy, and it’s so easy to slip into old habits, especially with the boy reacting so _wonderfully_ when he messes around with him.

Looking back, trying to maintain distance between them was a huge joke.

Sion had failed from the start, and he can’t bring himself to care.)

* * *

It’s unfortunate for Alba, really, that he has the dubious honour of being the first person Sion truly cares about since Crea amalgamated with Rchimedes. 

He once tells Alba that he loves to see people in despair. That’s not quite true. 

Sion loves to see the people he hates in despair, for them to be struggling and crying and desperate for forgiveness that would never come. 

(Later, much later, he regrets that he hadn’t made Dezember _suffer_ for killing Alba. To rip off his limbs, one by one, crush his eyes in his skull and tear his tongue from his throat. 

Sion had been non-responsive the moment his eyes landed on Alba, blood and guts spilling out from the other hero’s severed legs. His mind had gone blank, cycling between denials and Alba and more denials, and above all, the looming realization that the third and only surviving person he lo- cared for was dead. 

It was Hero Creasion who took over, undid the travesty, understood what he needed to do, the sacrifices he needed to make yet again-

But Sion has always held back when acting as Creasion, and so Dezember didn’t receive the torture he was due.)

Strangers, he doesn’t care about too much one way or another. Ruin some mofo’s day, it’s interesting for a few moments, and then he’s over it. 

And as for the people he likes - as few as they were - he always liked frustrating them, threatening them even. It was funny watching their tentative fright and nervous looks. But he wouldn’t hurt them too badly, nothing they wouldn’t be able to take. 

But he wants to hurt Alba, more than he had ever wanted to hurt Crea or his father, even at their most obnoxious. And at the same time he doesn’t. 

On one hand, Sion wants Alba to become the hero he knows Alba can be. This is the part of Sion that’s Hero Creasion, who travelled the land to defeat the great evil, who saved those he found on the way and became the symbol of justice people needed. 

(Hero Creasion, who couldn’t bear to kill his father and best friend for the good of all in the end.)

So Sion tries not to coddle Alba, refuses to aid him in battle unless it’s truly necessary and lets him be hurt by monsters, if only to make him stronger. 

It’s frustrating when he has to step in, because he _knows_ Alba has the strength in him somewhere, and so he snaps at him when Alba whines, when Alba acts as useless Sion says he is out loud.

But on the other hand, Sion wants to inflict pain, wants to slip a knife into Alba’s thigh and a hand around his throat. He wants to thrust a foot into the other hero’s stomach and send him flying into a wall, wants to grind his foot on Alba’s and watch him wince. 

(He wants Alba to give in to the abuse, to break, to look at him like he has all the answers. 

He wants him to become _his_.

Then, he could smile, heal him up, and whisk Alba away to somewhere hidden, somewhere where _no one else could ever get at him much less Rchim-_ )

Sion blinks. 

Yes. 

It was quite the unfortunate situation - for Alba. 

* * *

It’s Hero Creasion who appraises Alba, notes his lithe body type that wouldn’t likely change even if the teen _did_ have a late growth spurt. It’s the legendary hero who notes Alba’s difficulty in swinging even a normal sword around, let alone a greatsword like Creasion does. 

But it’s Sion who goes into a blacksmith in town, orders a dagger custom made to his careful specifications. It’s Sion who lifts the dagger up into the air and smiles keenly. 

And above all, it’s Sion who can’t help but slyly twist the knife into Alba’s thigh as they leave the formerly monster-infested caves, 

The other boy has built up great pain tolerance, he’ll say that much. Alba doesn’t even yelp when Sion forces the dagger in, just starts sniffling a little as they head out of the cave. 

(It’s a wonderful sight. Sion enjoys watching all of Alba’s little moods, but he loves it the most when the hero starts crying.

Though while he loves seeing Alba cry-

He hates seeing Alba genuinely sad, and sometimes Sion also really hates being a giant bundle of inconsistencies.)

Though, when Sion confesses to being the one to stab Alba, he silently admits he only has himself to blame when Alba yanks out the dagger and throws it away instead of accepting it as the gift it was. 

The dagger hitting a little girl in the head though? Absolutely priceless. Couldn’t have planned it better himself. 

* * *

Things move fast after that. They run into hero after demon after demon after hero, and Sion wants to kill something after two of the demons drag him and Rchi into the dimensional rift. 

He hates this place, and knowing how fast time is moving outside of it just makes him hate it more. 

(What if he goes back and every village he passed through is a wasteland, just as his was? What if he goes back and the people he knows are all dead?

What if he goes back and Alba-)

But they get back quick enough, and he thinks that he was worrying for nothing. 

Until moments later, Alba is killed, and he has to hold back a bitter laugh, because-

Despite everything, despite hating that rift, despite hating the idea of sleeping for another millenium-

He doesn’t even hesitate to do what it takes to bring Alba back, because apparently, somewhere along the way, he’s decided that he’d rather go through his own personal hell again than to have _him_ gone from the world too soon.

(He’s said before, briefly, that declaring you’d die for the person you love is nothing but a catchphrase for the weak. That if you really loved them, you’d live for them instead. 

It turns out he’s weak and doesn’t really love anyone, apparently.

Leaving Alba hurts like he does though.)

* * *

Sion feels rather cheated of his resolve when a mere few hours later from his perspective, he meets Alba again.

(He also feels rather cheated when he discovers Alba had a late growth spurt during however many years he was gone.)

So he punches the other boy.

“Huuuuh!?” he sneers, “Hero, you got so big over the past ten years, it’s disgusting!”

Alba jumps back up at him and growls. “It’s only been a year, you- Creasio- Ros...” Alba stares at him - no longer _up_ at him - with a conflicted expression. “Are you really him?”

Sion considers punching him again. So he does, a right hook into Alba’s stomach, and the other boy winces, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Okay, okay, you’re the real thing!” shouts Alba.

Sion grins. “Figured it out, hero? Must be our bond.”

He’s happy, really happy to see Alba again, not that he shows it- he has a reputation to maintain, after all. 

So when Alba sniffs - eyes glistening suspiciously - and says, “I missed you so much, Ros.”

Sion just responds, “It’s only been a few hours for me - that’s kinda creepy, hero.” He mimes making a call. ”It’s a creep, Mr. Policeman, yes, right over here,”

“You-!” Alba starts angrily, jumping at the other hero, and Sion laughs and laughs. 

(The truth is that he’d take a year separated from Alba in the waking worlds knowing they’ll meet again, than even five minutes in the rift believing he’d just said his final goodbyes to the other boy. 

Being in the rift the last few hours hurt so much, his long since tattered heart feeling like it was finally going to give up and rip itself to pieces. 

Even as he made smug comments at Rchimedes about their subsequent slumber, he hated everything, hated the worlds, hated himself. 

Sion needs to find Rchimedes and seal him again, this time for good, but he’ll treasure what little time he has left with Alba.)

* * *

Turns out that there’s a demon that can manipulate souls!

Why the _hell_ did Sion not think of that earlier!?

* * *

With his father defeated (dead, dead, _dead_ ), but Crea returned to him in exchange - he can still only barely believe it - Sion is almost insanely gleeful. 

Almost, if not for two things. 

One, Rchimedes was still his father, despite everything. And he can’t quite tell himself to not mourn the first demon lord’s death. 

Rchimedes always thought that Sion didn’t kill him because of Crea, but even if they hadn’t been sharing a body, Sion isn’t sure if he would’ve been able to work up the resolve to kill him. 

(He loved him. Rchimedes was dumb, but he was _his_ dumb dad, and Sion regrets every day that he wasn’t able to turn his father from his path.)

Two-

Two… 

Two, that damned too-cocky hero decided he wouldn’t go travelling the world with him and Crea. It’s only been a year, what’s he doing thinking he can live without Sion, huh?

(He’s pissed, but he’s still proud of the other hero. Both the part of him that’s Hero Creasion, and the part of him that’s Sion, Ros, royal soldier in service to a all-too-weak hero.

It turns out that all Alba needed all along to become stronger was the disappearance of his security blanket, for him to know that if he faltered in a fight, there would be no one coming to save him.

It turns out that for all his efforts, Sion had been the one stalling his progress all along.)

They had spent so long together. And yet Alba just-  just-

“I think I’ll stay here,” Alba says, smile bright, and Sion wants to punch something. Preferably Alba. In the stomach. Maybe the face.

(He holds it back, because he _is_ still proud of him.)

So instead of punching Alba, Sion instead just says with a smile he doesn’t feel, “Well, see you around then - hero.”

“See you around, soldier,” responds Alba, smile not fading, and the fond words heal his hurt a little. 

“I’ll consider visiting. Maybe in a couple years,” Sion informs Alba, and holds back a laugh as the other boy starts complaining about the cold treatment.

* * *

Being able to travel with both his best friend and his- Alba would’ve been great, but Sion’s pretty happy travelling with just Crea as well. 

It’s been so long since he’s seen Crea, so long since he had even dared to grasp the hope that Crea still lived somewhere inside his father. It feels like a dream to be able to check out the bed next to him and spot Crea snoring his guts out-

-Then kick him to make him shut up.

Sion figures he’ll visit Alba once every few weeks, Rchi already agreeing to facilitate the occasional reunion between them all. 

(He wanted more, of course, he always wanted more, but…

Alba didn’t need him anymore. Didn’t want him either, as anything other than the occasional friend. Didn’t need a mentor, didn’t want a too-strong soldier putting him through torture with the flimsy excuse of making him stronger - or just satisfying his sadistic fetishes.

What was he supposed to do? Sion still wants to hurt the other hero sometimes, leave bruises on Alba’s skin with carefully aimed kicks, marking him as _mine mine mine,_ but Alba was twice as strong as him now, and he hated it even as he hated himself for hating it.

He hated it, because if he wasn’t needed, of course he would be left behind.)

Then a messenger catches up with them in a nearby village, barely a month after Crea and him leave for their journey.

“H-hero Creasion,” pants the harried man - Crea snickers at the name, and so Sion jabs his foot into his friend’s ankle to watch him wince - before thrusting a letter embossed with the human royal seal at them. “I’m told it’s urgent - could you accept this letter?”

Sion yanks the letter from the messenger’s hand, frown deepening. He breaks the seal and flicks the letter open in a few swift moves, as Crea thanks the man for his work and dismisses him.

He scans the contents. Then scans them again. And a third time, for confirmation.

The letter is written with flowery language and an overly-polite tone, but the general gist of it is as such-

_Hero Alba has been imprisoned in the Demon World until he learns to control his magical power. We request that you serve as his mentor, if possible._

Alba does need him.

He needs him.

He needs him he needs him he needs him he needs him he nee-

“Sii-tan?” Crea cuts into his thoughts, peering at Sion with his head cocked to one side. “Is everything alright?”

-Crea. He couldn’t abandon Crea. Didn’t _want_ to abandon Crea, not after everything, not even for Alba. 

“Crea,” Sion says slowly, “I need to go to the demon world.”

Crea blinks, and, as easy-going as ever, says- “Sure! Sounds fun!”

* * *

Rchi happily takes the both of them into the demon world, and out of interest in getting to know one of Sion’s only friends, agrees to keep Crea busy while Sion chats with Alba for the day.

Sion has a vague idea of how he wants to go about this. He figures he’ll have to stay for a few days at first, to plan out a proper lesson plan and gather the materials he’ll need to assign Alba homework. Then meeting once a month would probably do. 

His vague ideas are forgotten the moment his eyes land on Alba behind bars, sitting despondently on the dull stone floor with his hands wrapped around his knees. Naturally, the other boy’s clad in set of prison clothes - it’s only expected at this point - but he’s added a spot of style this time, throwing his usual orange jacket over the black-and-white stripes.

(His again, his to mess with, play with, his to-)

Mouth going dry, he swallows and forces himself into nonchalance. 

“Hero,” he drawls, padding from the shadows of the corridor to stand in front of the bars. “You couldn’t even last a month without missing me too much? You’re so clingy.”

Alba’s entire face lights up at Sion’s words, at the sight of Sion, and it’s too much after too long without him, abort, abort…

The other boy jumps up and dashes to the bars.

“Ros!” exclaims Alba, voice so happy it makes Sion want to break his ribs. Then Alba pales, and mutters nervously, “Um, I’m sorry about all this.”

Sion sneers. “You should be. What was all that about ‘I’m going to stay behind because I’m a hero’ for? You love being in prison that much?”

“I’m seriously sorry,” wails Alba, “I didn’t want to bother you anymore.”

“And yet you are.”

Alba winces, but to his credit, forages ahead. “I’m still glad to see you, Ros.”

Sion sighs, but can’t help but throw Alba a bone, can’t help the soft smile that spreads across his face. “I’m glad to see you too.”

Alba is smiling, but Sion’s eyes are already flickering away, not trusting his face to not heat up after saying something so stupid if he’s staring into Alba’s eyes. Sion gauges Alba’s new accommodations, and he doesn’t like what he finds.

The cell is completely empty.

“ _This_ is where you’re living now?” Sion demands.

“Aha… yeah…” Alba sighs. “After I was moved from my cell in the palace to here in the demon world, Rchi said she’d prepare accommodations I’d be used to, but…”

A snort escapes Sion’s throat, then another, then he’s bent in two laughing. Despite the situation, he can’t help it.

“Don’t laugh…” whines Alba, but that just makes Sion laugh harder.

He composes himself after a little, straightening himself back up and smirking. “Don’t worry, Hero- leave it all to big brother.”

“Who are you calling big brother!?”

* * *

He went alone the first day partly to gauge what kind of environment Alba was living in, and mostly because he wanted to see him in private. The next day, Sion returns with Rchi and Crea and a host of demons in service to the Demon Lord, carrying in furniture and study supplies a-plenty. 

After the furniture is put in place and the servants are dismissed, Ros walks over to the brand new blackboard before glancing back at Alba. 

He lets a smirk curve the edges of his lips, and appreciates the expression of fear that crosses Alba’s face. 

“Shall we start then, Hero?” Sion says cheerfully. 

With the look of a prisoner on death row, Alba sits at his new desk piled high with books and papers. 

Rchi giggles. 

* * *

They settle into a schedule. 

Sion pops by once a month to teach what he can, dropping off a mountain of homework and marking the homework of the month before. 

There’s no practical training, not yet, but Alba’s progress is absurdly fast, despite what Alba might think from Sion’s mockery of any and every mistake in the other boy’s homework. 

Alba would be ready to actually try magic in no time at all, and after that, Sion doubted it would take much more for Alba to gain full control. 

(Alba wouldn’t need him in no time at all.)

He’s tempted, oh-so-very tempted, to stretch things out. Sion was Alba’s tutor- he had the final call on whether Alba could rejoin the human world. 

If he wanted, Sion could keep Alba under his thumb for years more. There was plenty he could teach him, plenty of unnecessary concepts that would serve to _refine_ the hero’s magic, sure, but were utterly meaningless in regards to the main goal- control. 

But he can’t. 

Alba, asking, “Ros, could you give my mom this letter?”, the look in his eyes distant and sad. 

Alba, voice quiet, mumbling that he missed cuisine from the human world sometimes. 

Alba, looking all too happy when he brings him a silly souvenir from a town Crea and him had visited that month. It was nothing but a wooden eggplant-slime, badly painted and eyes lopsided. But Alba smiles at it, at the piece of the outside world. 

And so he can’t. 

(Alba isn’t his to keep, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.)

* * *

It’s some months into their tutoring when Alba apologizes for an odd thing. 

Sion’s reluctantly - but in actuality not so reluctantly - telling the other boy about what kind of trouble Crea had gotten into _this_ month, as Alba half-heartedly tries to solve some equations. He’s rolling his eyes, Alba is smiling, until suddenly his pen stops and he isn’t. 

Alba’s eyes flick downwards. “Ros, I…”

“Hm?” says Sion, decidedly confused but refusing to show it. “You can’t solve it?”

“No, I’m,” Alba starts, words fragmented, “Sorry.”

The other boy looks bitter, sad, _miserable_ , and as Sion has no clue what’s caused it, he has no clue whether to enjoy it. 

He opts for a joke. 

“It’s nice of you to apologize for your mere existence, Hero,” snorts Sion, a smug smile spreading across his face. “But it’s rather too late at this poi-“

“I’m not doing that!” 

“Huh, you aren’t doing that?” Sion gives Alba his best gaze of scorn. “You’re so inconsiderate. Stuff like this is why people call you Toilet Man, you know.”

“No one calls me that!” Alba cuts in, slamming his hands on his desk. A beat- “And why do I have to apologize for my existence!?” 

“I don’t know, Hero,” Sion says, and meets Alba’s eyes steadily, expression flat. “Why do you have to apologize for anything?”

Alba blinks, then settles back down in his seat, eyes flicking downwards. “I just- I’m sorry for interrupting your journey with Crea-san. It must be a pain having to come here every month.”

Huh? Is he an idiot? 

“Huh? Are you an idiot?” Sion says, because he’s never been one to hold his thoughts back.

Now it’s Alba’s turn to be confused, judging from the look on his face. “What?” 

“Oh, my bad, you _were_ an idiot,” continues Sion, tapping a finger on Alba’s paper in front of them. “The square root of _x 2_ _\+ 9_ is not _x + 3_.”

“Ah!” Alba quickly corrects the error, then shakes his head. “No, I mean-” He lets out a sigh. “I know how important Crea-san is to yo-”

“-He’s just too annoying to shoo off-”

“- _And so_ ,” Alba continues loudly, “I’m happy you visit so often, Ros, but even if you won’t admit it, I know that it must be a bother t- mmgh!?”

Sion slams his hand over Alba’s mouth, expression dark.

He’s heard enough.

“Hero,” Sion starts, giving Alba a beatific smile. The hero struggles against his grip at the sight, but no amount of tugging will move his hand from its place until Alba’s heard what Sion wants him to hear. “I’m going to ask you a question, and now I’m going to break your ribs whatever you say, so tell me the truth, okay?”

Alba makes some muffled noises he can’t make out, but Sion can guess at what he’s trying to say.

“Why am I beating you up either way?” Sion asks, then widens his smile. “Because I’m pissed.”

The other boy looks vaguely mutinous, but Sion doesn’t care. He takes his hand off of Alba’s mouth and laces his fingers together in front of him, before resting his chin on his hands, smiling not faltering.

Alba looks decidedly nervous, but remains silent.

“Now then, Hero,” says Sion, “Did you decide to stay in the capital instead of coming with me because you didn’t want to ‘get in the way’?”

“U-um.” Alba stammers, visibly sweating, eyes swimming. “Well. The thing is.”

Sion glares at him.

Alba visibly swallows. “...Yes?”

His chair creaks as Sion stands up, cracking his knuckles. Yelping, Alba immediately scrambles out of his chair and darts away, but there’s only so far he can go in the cramped cell.

Sion corners him easily enough.

“Then, as promised,” he says, raising a fist.

“Eep.”

* * *

Sion might not have the power of the Mana Maker anymore, but he still has his innate magic power to draw on. 

Still, attacking Alba with his meagre power would be akin to a flea trying to take down an elephant. Alba’s gained enough control at this point that his magic should automatically step in to protect him.

And yet for some reason, it never does.

(There’s two explanations Sion can think of for this behaviour.

One, Alba trusts Sion- and so his magic never turns against the older hero, even when he’s very clearly causing harm to its owner.

Two, Alba’s been conditioned to expect that Sion can beat him up, can hurt him, and unconsciously, he’s ordering his magic to behave in a way that aligns with his expectations.

Either way, it doesn’t paint Sion in the best light.)

Another benefit of his innate power is the ability to cast simple healing spells, which he’s using here. He did consider leaving the other hero in pain, or to use it as an opportunity to get Alba to heal himself, but well, considering the issue at hand-

Perhaps beating him up wasn’t the best option to make Alba realize that Sion wants him around. Perhaps he may have miscalculated.

It’s too late now though, so the best he can do is let a soft green light surround his hand as he heals the ribs he broke as promised.

They’re sitting on the edge of Alba’s bed next to each other, Sion pointedly avoiding Alba’s gaze in favour of staring at the other boy’s chest.

“...You’re healing me, huh,” Alba comments, sounding more surprised than anything else. 

Sion grits his teeth, then mutters, “Don’t complain.”

“I’m not complaining,” Alba says quietly, then Sion feels a hand tentatively brush his neck. “Thank you.”

He freezes, guilt choking his throat. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and he hates it, but he knows he deserves it. 

He knows what he needs to do.

“I’m sorry.”

“ _What?_ ” Alba’s voice is full of sheer disbelief.

“I said-” Sion cuts himself off, growling. “You might have been an idiot, Hero, but there was no point in doing this.” 

He doesn’t say the apology again, because he can’t, but they’re implied at least, which is more than he’d give most anyone else.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“I don’t really get what you’re saying,” says Alba finally, sounding confused. “You just broke my ribs. I’m more happy than anything else.”

It takes a second for Sion to the process the words, then he’s jerking his head up to stare at Alba, hands falling to his lap. 

“ _What?_ ” Sion says in disbelief, an echo of Alba’s words just earlier.

Alba’s head is tilted a touch to the side, eyebrows furrowed. But when their eyes meet, Alba’s expression clears, and he smiles brightly. 

But his eyes are hooded with an emotion Sion can’t place, and something in the other boy’s expression causes a strange, tumultuous feeling in Sion’s stomach.

“Because well…” Alba starts, and the hand lightly caressing Sion’s neck suddenly tightens. Feeling a little dazed, Sion wonders- were the shadows always so dark on Alba’s face? But before he can ponder that thought, Alba continues- “...this means I can assume you want me around, right?”

“Uh…” 

With great difficulty, Sion manages to rip his gaze away from Alba and jump up from the bed, immediately taking a step back. 

He forces a confident smirk on his face.

“I don’t ask things I don’t mean,” Sion says dismissively, “Of course I want you around.” He snickers, and hopes it doesn’t sound too unnatural. “What would I do without you getting us thrown in jail all the time?”

“I never did that!” Alba retorts - incorrectly, Sion thinks inwardly, remembering all the times Alba was arrested for one reason or another.

The weird atmosphere is gone - Alba is back to acting like he always does.

(But Sion can’t quite feel comfortable for the rest of the day.)

* * *

Crea is dense, but not stupid. Still, Sion is a little surprised when he reunites with his friend the next day, within an hour, he’s asked- 

“Did something happen?”

He glances at Crea. “What do you mean?”

“Mm, I mean,” Crea says, waving a spoon around aimlessly. “You seem kinda off.”

They’re sitting in a café in a smaller, but still bustling town a far ways away from the capital. The food is nothing special, but Sion was feeling in the mood for something sweet. 

With a fork in his left hand and a knife in his right, he takes a bite out of his mountain of pancakes drenched with syrup, then says flatly- “It’s your imagination.” 

“You think?” says Crea, voice doubtful. “Usually when you come back from visiting Alba-san, you talk all obsessive like your mom, but to-”

“-What do you mean by _that_?” Sion interrupts, eyes narrowing.

“Oh right!” Crea exclaims, obliviously ignoring Sion’s death glare. He taps his spoon against his cheek, nodding. “You don’t remember Cecily-san.”

Sion sighs, lets the glare fade, and confirms, “Rchimedes didn’t talk much about her too.”

“Yeah, so like, Cecily-san was always really obsessive over you guys,” Crea explains. He shudders. “She was _really_ scary, and she thought I was a bad influence or something, so that was even worse... “ 

Sion’s eyes narrow again. “I’m not obsessive over Alba.”

“Is that a joke?”

Sion lifts his butter knife up and smiles. Crea immediately pales, but doesn’t back down. 

“You know it’s true, c’mon Sii-tan,” Crea whines, “You gave me the silent treatment for a day when I suggested Rchimedes the 2nd could teach Alba instead. Do you know how hard it is to give me the silent treatment? I can be _really_ obnoxious when I want to be.”

(So he’s self-aware.) 

“Because that was a stupid idea.” After a moment of consideration, Sion brings the butter knife down, cutting himself another piece of his pancakes.

“That wasn’t your only objection, let’s be real,” Crea mutters, then more loudly, “Anyways, my _point_ is that you’re acting differently. What happened?”

Sion holds back a sigh. He can’t really answer the question when he doesn’t know himself.

What _did_ happen?

He hasn’t been able to forget that expression on Alba’s face, the other boy’s hooded eyes, filled with some odd emotion he couldn’t recogni-

_You talk all obsessive._

“-Ah.” Sion says faintly. 

Lightly, very lightly, he places his fork and knife back down on his plate.

“Sii-tan?” 

“I want a parfait too.” Sion decides. Then he pauses. “And a slice of cake.”

“Sii-tan!?”

He calls down a waiter.

* * *

By the end of the month, Sion has firmly decided that he had just imagined things that weren’t there.

Alba wasn’t _obsessive_ over him. He was the one with the problem, not Alba. 

Besides, the other hero had moved on well enough after Sion disappeared, didn’t he? Became a true hero, in skills and power instead of just attitude, probably had just occasionally thought fondly of dear old Hero Creasion who helped raise him up into a hero in between messing with him.

It was stupid. He shouldn’t have healed Alba after he broke his ribs. It was making him think weird things.

Sion kinda wants to beat up Alba the next time he sees the other boy, but then again that’s what caused this whole problem in the first place, so he also kinda doesn’t.

It’s honestly a typical mood for him when around Alba, so it’s not a huge issue though.

So it’s easy for him to act normally when he saunters into Alba’s cave for their monthly lesson, and Alba seems to act normally too.

“I haven’t completed finished last month’s homework,” Alba says nervously from his desk. “But you can check the stuff I do have done while I finish it!”

Sion lets out a deep sigh, then flops into the seat across from the hero. “Fine, fine. Give it here.”

They work in silence for a little while, then Sion pauses in his writing.

“Hey, Hero,” he says.

Alba glances up from his work, tip of his pen falling from his mouth. “Ros? What is it?”

“When you gain full control of your magic, do you want to go travelling with Crea and I?”

Alba’s smile is blinding. “Of course.”

Sion doesn’t let himself be distracted, however. Coolly, flatly, he asks- “Why?”

“...Why?” Alba repeats, smile dimming.

“Are you still trying to rely on me?” Sion demands mercilessly. “You’re the hero, Hero - I don’t even have powers anymore. If-”

“-That’s not it!” cuts in Alba, sounding frustrated. He slams his hands on the table, pen clattering onto the floor. “I just want- I just need- if I’m with you, then I can make sure you won’t dis-”

Sion’s stopped listening halfway through though, because he’s staring at Alba’s eyes.

Alba’s wild, _obsessed_ eyes. 

(It’s like looking in a mirror.)

He holds up a hand, and Alba, still babbling something, trails off.

“Hero,” he starts, and _oh_ , is this a bad idea, for his first reaction to discovering that _ah, so I’m not the only one fucked up here_ to be joy at _he needs me too_ , but he can’t help it- “I like you.”

Alba blinks, and nods, looking confused. “So do I.”

“Good we’re on the same page,” Sion responds, because like _hell_ was he going to clarify even as he wants to scream at Alba’s denseness.

They go back to working in silence, but after a beat-

-there’s a clatter-

Sion looks up, and Alba has stood up, chair knocked over behind him, face flushed tomato red.

“Ros, right then, d-did you mean,” Alba stammers haltingly, “When you said you liked me-”

Sion leans his head against his head, and, wringing out every speck of composure he has left in him, smirks. “What do you think, _Alba_?”

There’s an intake of breath. Sion isn’t sure if it’s his or Alba’s.

Then papers are flying through the air as Alba leaps at Sion, and now Sion’s chair is clattering to the floor too- along with Sion.

It doesn’t hurt though, when Sion’s back hits the floor, Alba’s arms wrapped around his neck. Apparently Alba’s magic protects Sion more than it protects Alba against him. 

(He would need to deal with that problem at some point, but right now all he cares about is-)

“Ros,” Alba mumbles into his shoulder, then- “ _Sion,_ ” and Sion shivers, because unfortunately it seems Sion isn’t the only one who can play the game of using actual names to evoke a reaction. 

“What is it, Hero?” 

“I like you too.” Alba breathes, his grip almost painfully tight around Sion.

It’s pure bliss.

Sion lifts a hand to pull at Alba’s hair, forcing Alba’s face up from his shoulder so they could see each other face-to-face.

Alba’s left eye is shining bright, bleeding red, but the look in both eyes are equally devoted.

 _You’ve opened Pandora’s box_ , mutters a voice deep inside him. He ignores it.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sion says instead, and in one swift move, leans up, closes his eyes, and-

-closes the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> me: man I love possessive ros  
> alba: _gets even more possessive than ros_  
>  me: you know what this works too


End file.
